The New Yam Festival remains one of the most enduring cultural markers of the Igbo people, a ritual of thanksgiving, renewal, and supplication that connects communities to both their ancestors and the divine.
In Asaba, as in other Igbo towns, the festival has traditionally been a time to celebrate abundance, honour the earth, and reaffirm communal bonds. It is a season when yams, the undisputed “king of crops,” are given pride of place, and when farmers stand tall in society, showcasing their harvests as evidence of their toil and status.
In the past, yam barns were not just food storage spaces; they were powerful symbols of wealth, strength, and honour. They were the visible proof of manhood and prosperity. A man’s capacity to cultivate vast farmlands determined his social standing, influenced his family structure, and conferred respect in the community. Farming was not merely an occupation—it was a way of life, a spiritual covenant with the land.
But in today’s Asaba, as in many urbanised Igbo towns, that covenant has been weakened. The festival survives, but often without its substance. The rituals and colours remain, the ceremonies even more glamorous, yet the very essence—the harvest of yams by one’s own hand—is often missing. Yams are imported from distant markets, purchased, not cultivated, and displayed in ceremonies that have become more about tradition for tradition’s sake than about genuine agricultural achievement.
This was the burden of truth in the words of the Asagba of Asaba, HRM Obi (Prof.) Epiphany Azinge SAN, during his maiden New Yam Festival since ascending the throne. In a rare moment of candour, the monarch provoked the conscience of his people: “Every year we celebrate the New Yam Festival, but do we still farm? Must we continue to celebrate a festival without the substance of the yam?” His call was not a rebuke but a challenge, a reminder that culture without substance risks becoming mere pageantry.
The Asagba’s appeal resonates deeply in the present context of Nigeria’s food insecurity. The nation grapples with rising food prices, declining interest in farming, and an overdependence on imports. At such a time, a cultural festival tied directly to agriculture should not be reduced to a mere ritual. Instead, it ought to inspire a renaissance of farming, particularly among the younger generation.
Asaba is blessed with fertile lands, abundant water resources from the River Niger, and a rich cultural history that values communal farming. To ignore these advantages in an era of growing hunger is to betray both the past and the future. If the yam once conferred dignity and wealth, why should it not again? If the ancestors measured their success by the strength of their barns, why should their descendants settle for barns filled with yams bought from strangers?
Indeed, no kingdom thrives when it distances itself from the soil. The Asagba’s call to return to farming is not only about reviving tradition but also about confronting the stark realities of modern life. With food scarcity looming and unemployment rife, agriculture remains a sustainable path to self-reliance. Beyond the symbolism of the yam, the revival of farming in Asaba could spur local economies, create jobs, and restore dignity to manual labour.
At the festival, amidst the pomp of homage by the five quarters of Asaba—Umuezei, Ugbomanta, Umuagu, Umuaji, and Umuonaje—the message of the monarch stood out as both a cultural and developmental agenda. Distinguished personalities in attendance, from political representatives like Hon Ngozi Okolie and Hon Bridget Anyafulu, to academic leaders and community chiefs, were not just witnesses to a festival but potential partners in this new agricultural awakening.
The future of the New Yam Festival should not be a question of survival but of relevance. To remain meaningful, the festival must not only celebrate tradition but also inspire action. It must become a rallying point for agricultural revival, for the reconnection of urbanised communities to the land, and for the teaching of younger generations that culture is not just costume but responsibility.
In urging his people to farm again, the Asagba of Asaba did more than cut a ceremonial yam—he planted a seed of thought. Whether that seed germinates into a movement of renewed agricultural pride or withers into forgotten rhetoric will depend on whether the people heed his call. For if yams once made men kings among men, then perhaps farming again can restore both dignity and prosperity to Asaba in a time when Nigeria needs it most.
